


raising dogs and selling meth

by ficfucker



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: M/M, raising a dog together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-17 14:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18967180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficfucker/pseuds/ficfucker
Summary: jesse & walt are suddenly co parents to a dog





	raising dogs and selling meth

“Yo, I know I ain’t put a sign up, but no solicitin’, ‘kay? I’m not interested in being saved by Jesus, I don’t vote, and-  _ Mr. White _ ?” Jesse cuts himself short when he swings the front door open to find Mr. White standing there, his hands together, wearing a dark sweater. He looks nervous but firm and Jesse squints. 

 

“You bein’ followed, man? Like, is this a setup or somethin’?” Jesse whispers, slipping the door further shut so he’s less out in the open. 9 out of 10 times Mr. White randomly appears in his life, Jesse is about to be killed or do some killing, so the fact that there was no text or ring beforehand puts him on rightful edge. He squints around but only see’s Mr. White’s car on the curb. 

 

“What? Oh God, no…!” Mr. White waves a dismissive hand. “I actually came to - I have a favor to ask of you. I know I should have called first, but I couldn’t get time alone and it slipped my mind on the way here and-” 

 

“Oh,  _ goodie _ , what is it now? Gonna ask me to smuggle up my ass next?” 

 

Mr. White’s eyebrows go together and he opens his mouth once before closing it, looking like he’s considering saying something that will for sure send Jesse over the edge, maybe an innuendo or harsh joke, but he seems to discard the idea because he says, “Nothing like that, Jesse, no. I have - a dog has been hanging around my neighborhood. Following me, I mean.” 

 

Jesse pulls a face. “Yeah  _ and _ ?” 

 

“Well, it  _ follows _ me. Right into the house…! And-And Skyler is already - we’re on bad enough terms as is.” Mr. White sighs and gives Jesse a tired smile. “And I can’t call pest control. Having  _ them _ poking around is simply  _ out _ of the question.” 

 

“Oh, Christ, Mr. White, don’t tell me you want me to  _ shoot _ the damn thing! ‘Cuz listen, man, you know I’m ride or die, but I can’t shoot a fuckin’  _ dog _ , I really can’t-” 

 

Walter shakes his head frantically and raises his hands up. “No, Jesse, just listen to me!” 

 

“I’m  _ listening _ , yo! Just get it out if yer gonna! I was doin’ my own thing, you know, my life doesn’t revolve around solvin’ yer problems, and it’s gettin’ dark, I’m off the fuckin’ clock right now-” 

 

“Jesse! Good  _ God _ , just shut up and listen for once in your life!” 

 

Jesse shuts up. He scowls. He listens. 

 

Mr. White runs a hand over his head and sighs. “I’m not  _ asking _ you to kill the dog. I don’t  _ want _ you to kill the dog. And neither one of us is calling anyone over it, but I can’t take her to a shelter.” 

 

“And why the fuck not? Heisenberg ain’t that famous, bitch. You aren’t gonna get noticed bringin’ some pooch to the pound.” Jesse leans in his doorway, ready to exit this conversation as soon as Mr. White makes whatever point it is he’s trying to make. He’s a busy man, afterall. He should be inside, hot pocket in hand while he tries to decide what genre of porn he’s going to watch tonight, repressing every trauma he’s experienced since agreeing to cook. 

 

“She’s a pitbull. Every place within a hundred miles is a kill shelter, Jesse. “

 

Jesse’s eyebrows go up. “Oh...” 

 

“Poor thing doesn’t even look to be a year old.” Mr. White clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth and looks up, up to the sky like he can see something there. “She doesn’t have a collar, either. No tags. Fine enough dog and friendly as can be, but it’s been, oh, a week now and-and no one has come to claim the damn pup.”

 

“You been feedin’ it anything?” 

 

Mr. White looks pained and accused at the same time. “I left out a-a - one of those cans of chunk chicken. And some water in a dish.”

 

Jesse shakes his head and blows air out of his mouth. He wishes he had a cigarette, but he smoked his last pack that day and has yet to buy more. 

 

Where Mr. White draws the line at cruelty, callousness and kindness, tender-hearted acts is beyond Jesse. He’s knocked Jesse around more than a few times, lied to his wife, lied his whole family. Hell, Mr. White has successfully turned a man to human sludge in a bathtub, but he can’t handle the thought of putting a dog down, even indirectly. 

 

“So, you fucked up and fed a stray and this relates to me  _ how _ ?” 

 

“I’m in no position to be raising a dog. A puppy  _ and _ an infant? It’s-It’s  _ beyond _ the realm of reason in my life right now.” 

 

Jesse scoffs. “Drug dealer and part time daddy too much for you suddenly?” 

 

Mr. White slices his eyes down with his lids, full on glaring at Jesse, and though he’d never admit it, a little sliver of unease ices through Jesse. “Skyler would have my  _ head _ if I brought a dog home. I’ll help you buy supplies tomorrow, just  _ please _ , Jesse, I need you to-”

 

“Woah, woah, back the truck way up here, yo.  _ Supplies _ ?”

 

“Leash, collar, proper food dishes,” Mr. White starts listing, as if this explains anything. “Training crate, though I’m not sure she’ll need one with how sh-”

 

“Yer tellin’ me I’m supposed to like, look after this fuckin’ dog?” Jesse stands upright, like he’s about to get in Mr. White’s face, size him up over this, but he doesn't step closer. “Do I  _ look _ like the kind of guy who needs a dog shittin’ on his floor? You ever  _ think _ to run these things by me first, Mr. White? Like ring me up and say, ‘Yo, there’s a fuckin’ pitbull slumming around my house. You wanna adopt her so my wife doesn’t leave me for real this time?’”

 

Mr. White doesn’t answer at first, just looks up to the sky again with his mouth slightly open, running his tongue along the inside of his bottom lip. “I should have warned you, you’re right about that,” he says eventually, in a soft voice. “But truthfully? I think this could be a blessing.” 

 

“Yeah?  _ How _ ?” 

 

  
“For starter’s she’s a gorgeous dog. And secondly, she could be… beneficial. Imagine how-how  _ badass _ you’d look walking a big pitbull around on a chain.”

 

Jesse could laugh. He really could. He’s being slapped in the face with yet another “what the fuck am I doing with my life?” moment and Mr. White wants him to be serious during it. 

 

“Fuckin’... whatever, man. I’ll take her. Two weeks is the limit, though, so you better like, look around, see who’s in the market for a dog, ‘cuz no way is this a permanent thing or some shit.” 

 

The relief on Mr. White’s face is so apparent, Jesse nearly feels repulsed. “Of course,” he says. “I’ll bring her by tomorrow, in the afternoon.” 

 

“Yeah, yeah,  _ got it _ , yo. Am I done here?”

 

“Yes, Jesse.” There’s a beat before, “Thank you.” 

 

“Whatever, yo. Text me tomorrow.” 

 

And before Mr. White can get in another word, Jesse is twirling around, his head lolled back, his shoulder slack, and he closes his door right in his face. He almost never gets the chance to do that with Mr. White. It is deliciously satisfying. 

 

It acts as a balm on his general irritation and his mind leaps back to what category of porn he’s going to watch now that he’s finally, sweetly alone. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


“Yo, uh, ‘scuze me.” 

 

“Yes?” 

 

Jesse gestures loosely with his left hand to the array of collars hanging on their little silver hooks in front of him and the store assistant he’s just gotten the attention of. “If I’ve got like, a pup, ya know, a dog that’s for sure gonna grow, am I supposed to buy, like, a collar for her now and whatever sizes I figure she’ll fit into? Or just wait until she outgrows the first one and come back then?” 

 

The lady, who in all rights should be called a girl, considering she looks younger than Jesse with her red pet store polo and straightened blond hair, gives him a perplexed but customer service smile. “How old is she now?” 

 

“Uh.” Jesse falters then lands on, “Like, six months.” Mr. White had only guessed under a year, so this is a blatant lie on Jesse’s part. 

 

“Breed?” 

 

“Pitbull.” 

 

She nods. “Ah, okay. She’ll be growing for quite a bit longer then. Best advice I can give is to bring her into the store and try some collars on next time, to make sure there’s growing room.” 

 

Jesse bobs his head along. “Oh, word, right.” 

 

It is now that Jesse is starting to realize that maybe he should have waited until Mr. White had actually swung by with the dog and had all three of them go to the store for dog care supplies, but to his credit, he had been bored at home. It surprises no one that Jesse gets antsy and jumps the gun from time to time and this is no exception.

 

And maybe the idea of having a dog, having something, having a pet that would be excited when he got home and would snuggle up to him, was excitable. Sue him over it. 

 

“Will that be all for now?” 

 

“Huh?” Jesse had been considering texting Mr. White with some clarifying questions, sucked into his own world. “Oh yeah, I’m totally - I’m good, thanks.” He flashes her a smile, shoots her a thumbs up, and scuttles off to another aisle. 

 

He’s in the bedding section, which works well enough for him, because a dog needs a bed as much as a human, he figures, so he starts looking around. Jesse slips out his phone and dials Mr. White. 

 

“Jesse?” 

 

“Hey, so, should I just get a bed that would like, fit me or do you think that’s too big?” 

 

“What?” 

 

“For the dog.” Jesse pulls a circular red plush bed off the shelf and holds it up to his torso with his free hand. 

 

Mr. White sighs loud enough for it to be picked up over the phone, then asks, “You’re getting supplies  _ now _ ? It couldn’t have waited until after?”

 

“Listen, rightfully, this should be comin’ out of yer chunk of money, so just be glad I’m doin’ this shit now and gettin’ it outta the way.” 

 

“Okay, well… Pick whatever size bed you want, I suppose. And then two dishes, one for water and the other for food. Any type leash, but I’d wait for the collar, to make sure it fits her properly.” 

 

Jesse rolls his eyes and drags the bed behind him, looking for one of those little pushcarts he knows the store has. “Way ahead of you on that one, Mr. White.” 

 

“And maybe pick up some wet food, too, not just the dry. Don’t want to shock her system since it looks like she hasn’t been eating regularly in a while.” 

 

Jesse finds a carriage, tosses the bed into it, and starts strolling the nearest aisle with his chest leaned over the handle. “What about toys?” 

 

“Sure, Jesse, whatever you want.”

 

The wall of chew things has about a million and a half options, in every color, mostly bright blues and oranges, and he has no idea which he’s supposed to pick. “Dude, I swear, I’ve seen some of these in pornos. Like, legit, these are ribbed for pleasure in more ways than one.” 

 

Mr. White groans. “Is this all you called me for?”

 

“God, right, I forgot you’re still a high school teacher with  _ zero _ sense of humor.” 

 

“I’ll be by in a couple hours. Just be home when I get there.” 

 

“Whatever you say, Captain.” Jesse hangs up and salutes at his phone before putting it back in his pocket. 

 

He tosses a rubber bone and a few tennis balls on top of the bed then heads in the direction of the dog food. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Jesse is fucking off, listening to music and eating a bowl of cereal cross legged on the floor when he hears someone pull into the drive. He peers through his curtains to ensure it’s who he’s expecting and when he sees that yes, it is in fact, Mr. White, he goes to the door with the leash he’d bought earlier that day in hand. 

 

Mr. White rolls down his window. “Jesse! Come here.” 

 

Jesse complys and approaching the car, he sees a grey and white pitbull in the passenger seat, wagging her tail so hard, her entire body is shaking like she’s going through withdrawal; and she’s smiling that smile dogs sometimes have, tongue hanging out her mouth. 

 

“Go to the other side,” Mr. White instructs. “I’ll roll down the window so she can smell you. Just approach her slow and talk softly. She’s friendly with me, but she’s skittish at times.” 

 

Jesse nods, circles around the car, and once the window is cracked, he holds out his right palm. The dog, who does not seem shy in the least, immediately starts to lick at his fingers. “Yo, you didn’t tell me she’d be silver.” 

 

“Blue. They call it blue when dogs are that color.” 

 

Jesse snorts and loops the leash around her neck, sliding the length through the handle. “Gotta be her name then.” 

 

Mr. White exits the vehicle, stands in front of it as Jesse leads the dog out. “Pardon?” 

 

“Blue.” Mr. White gives him a blank look and he huffs. “For real? You just said: she’s blue. And like, no way is that  _ not _ some metaphor from God or some shit. Blue meth? Blue dog? Tell me that’s not totally fitting.” 

 

Mr. White watches as Blue sniffs and waggles around. “Well, don’t get too attached. You said yourself neither of us plan on keeping her.” 

 

Jesse starts leading her up to the house and to his surprise, she takes to it kindly, not at all bothered by the leash, which probably means she definitely has an owner who’s out there looking for her. A little pang of guilt and worry hits Jesse thinking about. He hopes they start hanging posters soon, so he can answer them and sleep better at night knowing that no one is out there missing such a well trained and seemingly sweet dog. 

 

“Oh, trust me, I ain’t gettin’ attached. I’m sure as soon as she starts barking I’ll be like, way done with this.” 

 

They’re at the door now and Mr. White holds it open for Jesse and Blue. “You’ve got it then?” 

 

“Think so.” 

 

“Food? 

 

“Yep.” Blue flops over on her side, shimmies onto her back, practically begging for a belly rub. Jesse would be a monster to refuse, right? 

 

“Brush?” 

 

“Yeah, man, I’m not like, an infant, you know. I got the wet food shit you asked for, too.” 

 

Mr. White nods and observes the two for a moment longer, Jesse squatted down next to the pup while she wriggles happily, her legs kicking as she does. “Alright. Thank you, Jesse. Truly.” Mr. White brings his palm down on Jesse’s head and ruffles the short hair there, affectionate in a fatherly sense, and Jesse suddenly feels like he’s the dog in this situation. 

 

That fills him with conflicting emotions, so instead of taking anything to heart, he says, “Just know you owe me for this shit.” 

 

“I know, Jesse.” Mr. White leaves his hand where it is, cupping the back of Jesse’s head, and if the circumstances were different, if they were alone together in the RV, things would probably be moving in a very specific direction. 

 

Instead, Jesse stands and Mr. White’s hand falls away. “I’m good, ya know. I got things handled.” 

 

And then it is just Jesse and his dog. 

**Author's Note:**

> have big plans for this but who knows if ill commit & finish 
> 
> hit me with ideas in the comments & don't forget to leave kudos 
> 
> talk to me on tumblr @ficfucker


End file.
